For the last two mornings the commute into work has been hideous ~ not just bad, plain hideous.
On Monday we were queued back off the platform ~ five tubes pass and as I’m perched on the edge of the platform, toes, nay feet well over the yellow line; nose inches from the incoming speeding tube; I ponder whether there’s space for me under the rails without having my body sliced into a multitude of bits; praying there’s not even a hint of surge and never to find out.
Today as I arrive at finsbury park the gates are closed and my heart sinks, I know it’s going to be another crappy journey. The ever growing mass of increasingly angry flesh tells me this too. I abandoned all hope and headed for the overground and prayed at least that was working properly.
TFL sort it out. You’re not moving unexpected amounts of people around the capital. It’s crazy.